


How to Win Your Timeslot

by halfeatenmoon



Category: Big Bang Theory, Community
Genre: Gen, Meta, Paintball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 01:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/302132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfeatenmoon/pseuds/halfeatenmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheldon would like to know why there's a strange man in his apartment shooting paintballs. It shouldn't be such an unreasonable question. (A pre-Yuletide Christmas gift.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Win Your Timeslot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notalwaysweak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to the best ML a Wrimo could want. This is a brief but rather different twist on one of your ideas. I'm still dying to see your version too.

Something was wrong.

Sheldon didn't know exactly what, but as soon as he entered the apartment he knew that _something_ was not right. Nobody had rearranged his cereal boxes, there was no mess on his computer desk and nobody was sitting in his spot, but something was off and he wasn't going to move until he worked out what it was.

Then he saw the board.

"Leonard!" he shouted. "Why is there _paint_ on my board?"

 _Thwack!_

For a moment, all Sheldon could do was freeze in shock. The sound, the impact and the sensation of clammy paint spreading over his sleeve were all familiar - although he was used to wearing armour, and being paintballed without protection _hurt_. But it was the arrogance, not the pain, that stunned him. What kind of maniac would shoot paintballs at an unprepared opponent, indoors, where they could _mess up Sheldon's board_?

He turned slowly to face his assailant - a young man about his own height and build, staring at him impassively over the barrel of his paintball gun. They locked eyes and stared each other down, until finally Sheldon decided to make the first move.

"Leonard!" he yelled, without taking his eyes off the other man. "Help!"

Leonard came running out of his room in a matter of seconds. "What? What's wrong!"

"He shot me!" Sheldon said, pointing at the intruder. Somehow, in the couple of seconds it had taken Leonard to reach the living room, he'd already concealed his paintball gun. "And it hurt!"

"Sheldon, what are you talking about?" Leonard asked, his look of concern now replaced with weary irritation.

"I just got home and walked in the door, and this... this _invader_ attacked me!" Sheldon exclaimed, pointing. "Look, we've got him now, you're a witness."

Leonard sighed. "He's not an intruder, Sheldon, that's Abed. Remember? He just moved here? We met him at the comic book store yesterday. I ran into him on my way home and invited him over."

"Well, you've made a grave mistake," Sheldon said, "You've invited a saboteur into our home, Leonard, and it's on your conscience if he suceeds in destroying us both."

Leonard appeared to be unconcerned about the weight on his concience. "And _why_ would Abed want to destroy us both?"

"He must be a physicist from a rival university trying to hold back my research," Sheldon hissed. "Look what he did to _my board_."

Leonard took a long look at Sheldon's board, at the splatter of bright orange paint in the middle of it, and the bright purple paint on his sleeve. Then he turned to Abed with a long-suffering sigh. "Sorry, Abed, I should have mentioned my housemate, Sheldon. Most of the time he's just annoying but sometimes he's a _paranoid nutcase_."

"I'm not paranoid!" Sheldon protested. "He really did attack me! I'm telling the truth! Listen to me, not him!"

"Um," Abed raised a index finger. "I haven't said anything."

"No, I can see you're the type to shoot first and explain later. Or _pretend it never happened_ later." Sheldon snapped.

"Sheldon, be nice," Leonard sighed. "Abed's new in town, he doesn't know anybody and you're being irrational. Abed, don't hold it against him. Sheldon sometimes takes some getting used to, but he stops being actively hostile once you get to know him. Unless you're Wil Wheaton."

"Or unless you're _out to get me_ ," Sheldon hissed.

Before Leonard could answer back, Abed held up his finger again. "I'm sorry, but I really have to interrupt you. As much as I love the trope of the character who knows the truth and tries to warn everyone being ignored and proven right, I don't really have time to infiltrate your social group and establish myself as a trusted member of the group before betraying you. Which is a shame," he added, sadly, glancing at the shelves. "I love your Star Trek collection."

"We have every disc in the franchise that was ever released," said Sheldon, smugly. "And by the way, I told you so."

"Sheldon, be quiet," said Leonard. "Abed, what are you talking about? Are you saying you _did_ come here to attack us?"

"Yep," said Abed, and pulled out two paintball guns this time. "I hate to do it, because I really love your show, even if the attempt to cram every possible geeky subculture in to the hobbies of one group of friends is over the top, and the laugh track is kind of hokey. And honestly, Sheldon, as irritating as your well-earned arrogance is, you're the only TV character I've ever seen who really shares my confusion about supposedly normal emotional expressions."

"You're welcome," said Sheldon, at the same time as Leonard said " _TV character_?"

Abed just nodded at Sheldon. "But I'm afraid the time has come when I can't ignore the threat you pose any longer. My show, despite have a diverse and well-rounded cast with hilarious, tightly-written scripts, has been struggling for two years. And now we've been put on hiatus. And it's all because of you."

"What didn't do anything!" Leonard said, and then caught himself. "And we're not a TV show!"

"Yes you are," Abed stared at him over the barrel of his gun. "And you're a juggernaut. You win the ratings in your timeslot every week so easily that it's a death sentence to pitch any other sitcom against you. No matter how smart, touching or self-referential we are, we can't compete with your combination of geek humour with traditional sitcom stereotyping. We held on for two years, but now I can't ignore you any longer. I need to take you out."

They stared at him for a few moments, before Sheldon turned to Leonard. "It _is_ a logical course of action if you accept the premise that we're the stars of rival TV shows."

"But we're _not_."

"Yes, but if we were, obviously we'd be the most successful."

"That's right. And now you know why I'm here, it's time to get down to business." Abed fired another warning shot at Sheldon's whiteboard, making them both jump. "Now, are you going to fight, or are you going to run?"

"Wait, Abed, this ridiculous!" Leonard pleaded. "Even if what you're saying is true, which it isn't, how would shooting us with paintballs make any difference?"

"Oh, that's too easy," Abed gave him a small smile. "Sitcoms depend on the establishment of familiar jokes, characters and settings to keep people coming back. I don't want to kill you. But if I can chase you off and trash your apartment, there's no way the show can go on. Then my show can come back on the air and claim the ratings that are rightfully ours."

"But..."

Before Leonard could get out another word, Abed shot him in the chest. He staggered back with bright blue paint splattering over his hoodie.

"Do you have to start right _now_?" Leonard demanded.

"I can't waste any more time. We'll lose the momentum we've built up in the first ten episodes."

"That's it, I'm getting out of here," Leonard shouted.

"Okay," Abed said. "There are only four other locations you could be in, so I'll catch up with you later."

Leonard blinked at him in genuine fear and then lunged for the door. Before he could slam it shut, Abed popped another paintball on his back for good measure.

Sheldon and Abed were left alone to stare at each other now; Abed impassively, Sheldon warily.

"You have me at a disadvantage," Sheldon said. "You've come into my apartment intent on destroying me, when I don't have any means to defend myself."

"You want to fight?" said Abed, with just a hint of excitement.

"Of course," Sheldon sniffed. "I can't let you destroy my apartment without even _attempting_ to defend myself."

"Cool." Abed's face broke into a full smile. "Here, take one of my guns. And here's a spare clip. I'll stay behind the couch, you make base in the kitchen."

"Deal," said Sheldon, slipping the clip into his pocked. He crouched down behind the kitchen island and aimed. "What are our rules of combat?"

"Rules?" Abed laughed. "There are no rules in paintball."


End file.
